Little puffs of air
by Poetic Pixie
Summary: “He loves watching her breathe, loves the simple pleasure he can derive from seeing her chest rise and fall, like the tides of the ocean on a clear night or the swaying of trees in the wind.” InuKag


**One Puff, Two Puff, Three Puff, Four Puff**

Her breath leaves her mouth in small, white puffs. They float for a second, suspended for a moment like the clouds high above them both. Inuyasha has learnt how to tell her feelings by counting puffs, he has become an expert in measuring the length and frequency of them, tracking their movements so he can tell when she's happy (a feeling that he milked for all its worth), angry (a feeling that he tries to avoid unsuccessfully as the anger is usually directed at him) and when she's sad (a feeling that breaks his heart though he certainly won't admit it).

He loves watching her breathe, loves the simple pleasure he can derive from seeing her chest rise and fall, like the tides of the ocean on a clear night or the swaying of trees in the wind. She's beautiful in a different way from anyone else, her eyes sometimes laugh up at him, as if she's privy to a joke that he doesn't know. But she never laughs at him, even when she has every reason to she doesn't. Her arms always know just how to find the right groove around his neck, they latch on and hold him fast and tight. As if she's afraid he'll leave her. Stupid girl thinks that he'll ever leave her.

She's so hotheaded but then again so is he. They clash and crash in so many minute ways that it's a wonder that they're both not six feet under by now. For all his pride over being so powerful, so much stronger than a lowly human, he never doubts that should she wish she could kill him with one look. But her looks, even when she's as mad as a hellcat, her looks are full of so much fire that it makes him want to gladly burn into a crisp. If only so that for one shining moment he would she her as alive and as scorching as he knows she can be.

He wants to hold her always, he wants to protect her from all the evils in the world, from all the hurt that the world can give her. And oh how he hates himself when he's the cause of her hurt, for every teardrop that falls down her cheek he would gladly give up himself so that she would never feel pain. She's like a queen, an angel, a goddess, too wondrous and unearthly to have to ache.

But her temper… sometimes he wonders why he bothers. She would puzzle him with her irrational behaviour, her frustration that he was always too scared to take as jealousy. A girl like her needn't be jealous of anyone. But sometimes can't understand her willingness to punish him for the smallest thing, her anger would simmer like lava but god forbid that someone else insult him. She was so damned confusing. _Women_.

But she isn't a woman, she isn't an angel or a girl or anything that he has ever seen before. She's so perfect that she can't be human, she's so flawed that she can't be perfect. She is so irrefutably _her_ that he's glad that there is only one of her, the world can't take anymore. He's sorry that she's so singular, she could light up so much if she weren't.

She's stupid and intelligent, can't see how much he loves her, doesn't let that stop her. He wishes that she could leave him alone, his chest aches when he doesn't see her, hear her voice for more than a day. He wishes he could leave her alone. She's a disease, has him waxing poetic about her face, on her hands, on the way that she laughs and sings when she thinks no one's around.

He watches her sit in the snow, her eyes closed and her breath hovering in front of her nose for a moment. He wishes that he could feel this kind of peace forever.

**Five Puff, Six Puff, Seven Puff, More Puff**

When she laughs the puffs are blown away by the force of her breath, he can't count them, can't watch each individual expulsion of air before it dissolves into the coldness that hangs around them both. But to hear the ringing of her voice as she giggles at one of his stupid jokes, it's more than a fair trade-off.

When she laughs, a true laugh that comes deep from her stomach, she throws her head back and closes her eyes, the lids open just a crack. Her neck is illuminated in the soft light of the setting sun and rising moon. She's like a mythical deer, an elf from faraway that will disappear when he blinks. She looks at him, he takes in all of her and sees the tremors in her shoulders, the way her lip trembles in time with the cold.

He takes off his haori unconsciously, he doesn't need think about keeping her safe and warm anymore. It's a reaction that has settled deep within his bones, this need and want to protect her. She doesn't protest anymore either, both of them knowing the futility of her disapproval. She simply mutters a thank you as the haori warps around her shoulders, settling onto her with a familiarity that does more for her temperature then any fabric could.

She moves closer to him, as if she can somehow return the favour, burrowing and sliding until his arm is wrapped around her shoulders. Her head resting on his, leaning on him as she always has.

They watch the last sliver of the orange sun sink below the high peeks of the mountains. They walk back home with the moon shining on their backs. He blinks in the lingering sunlight and he can still feel her next to him, see her black hair out of the corner of his eye.

**Seven Puff, Six Puff, Five Puff, Four Puff**

Watching her breathe involves watching her lips he's found. They pout and smile and scowl. Sometimes her tongue will be peeping out from between them, in concentration or scorn or childishness. He has found that he likes her mouth, likes the lush pink of her lips and the lighter shade of her tongue, the flash of white when she smiles.

He tries to steal a kiss from her but everything gets complicated when her lips turn out to be so warm, heating up his cold ones. They stumble, all sense of direction focused only on finding each other's mouths, hands seeking pockets of heat and hair with which they can warm up with and latch on to. His back hits an old tree, the wintry wetness of the bark seeping though his clothes, his mind barely sparing it much thought as he focuses all his attention on her and her closeness.

But as his fingers start to try to pry off her troublesome clothing and as she tries to do the same they're reminded of where they are as the icy wind eagerly follows where their hand have been, cooling their heads enough so that they stop. They don't let go of each other though, staying close for safety and warmth and the simple pleasure of holding someone who you love. Who loves you back with all the passion in the world.

He looks down and sees her try and steady herself, her puffs are long and slow. They hang in the air for longer than usual before floating up to meet his.

**Three Puff, Two Puff, One Puff, No Puff**

He has always liked the snow for its simplicity, the stark whiteness that darkens when it's been touched by filth, snow can't lie about what has touched it. But now what's staining the snow isn't filth at all, he watches her ruby red blood colour the snow, tint it with a kind of brilliance that would be brilliant were it not so terrifying. The snow doesn't lie about how much of her blood has been spilt, how much life she has lost.

Around them lays that mangled corpse of the demon that was fool enough to try and touch her, harm her. Who was fool enough to succeed. He stares at his hands, no longer able to distinguish between her blood and the demon's any longer. Her head lays cradled in his lap, he can hear the calls of help that is coming but doesn't pay heed to them.

He watches her breathe, watches the rise and fall of her chest slow down. Watches a puff of air float up from her mouth and holds his own breath as he waits for another one to follow, feels his heart break as it doesn't.


End file.
